


Be My Pet

by RogerTaylorCanRawMe



Series: Queen One-Shots [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom!Roger, F/M, Leashes, Leg Humping, Lingerie, Pet Names, Sir / Pet, Smut, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogerTaylorCanRawMe/pseuds/RogerTaylorCanRawMe
Summary: Roger writes one particular song that has you hot under the collar. Literally.





	Be My Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, sorry I've been really inactive. I've been kinda burned out on my current WIP, so here's a cool one-shot. It's based on a song by Roger's side project, The Cross. The song's called 'Love on a Tightrope'. It will ruin your life.

You and Roger stood in the mixing room while his latest track blasted through the speakers. He was recording another album outside of Queen and, he wanted you to hear it first. You had your arms folded, digging your teeth into your knuckle. Listening intently to every single sordid lyric. 

He didn’t take his eyes off you, searching for any indication of dislike. He could be so sensitive to criticism.

It wasn’t bad, per se. But Roger’s penchant for risqué analogies really shone through. So much so that when the song ended, you stood in stunned silence, fearing that you might need some time alone after that. 

“Well? What did you think?” Roger asked, grinning proudly. 

“I’m not sure I understand what it’s about, Roger. I mean,” you began, going over to the mixing desk and picking up a scrap of paper with Roger’s handwriting on it. “Love on a lead is what you need? Be my dog, be my pet? What does that even mean?” You shrugged.

Roger flopped down into a chair, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks burned red. “It’s…a metaphor,” he nodded. “A metaphor. For loyalty.” He seemed to think he had explained himself well, and that he had sufficiently dodged the bullet of telling you how he really felt about you.

Going along with Roger’s explanation, as weak as it was, you gave in. “Oh, right,” you smiled. “It’s very good then.”

Roger looked pleased with himself. “Thank you. I thought so too.”

* * *

The next day, you were puttering around in your flat when the phone rang. It was a Wednesday afternoon. You had no plans and no idea who could be calling you. To your surprise, it was Roger. 

“Hello, my love!” He sounded cheerful. “Listen, I was just wondering. Did you really like that song I played for you last night?”

You chuckled to yourself. “I loved it,” you said, batting your eyes left and right. Lies.

“Really? You said something about the lyrics…”

“I thought they were quite sexy if I’m honest.” More lies.

There was a pause that made your stomach drop as Roger gathered his thoughts, trying to scramble together a response. “I lied about the meaning though.”

“I thought you did.”

“Why don’t I show you what I meant? Tonight?”

That proposition knocked the air from your lungs.

“Are you still there, my love?”

“Yes. Tonight. Ok.” You could feel your stomach slowly start to churn at the thought of what he had in store for you. Where those lies of your’s had got you.

“Wear something nice for me.”

You curled the cord around your fingers, mentally scanning your wardrobe. Pondering all the lavish gifts Roger had given you since you two met. “Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know, my love. Just enough that you don’t get arrested,” he said casually. “Something skimpy with that beautiful fur coat over the top.”

Your mouth dropped open at the thought of going out like that. But you went along with it, the intrigue getting the better of you. “When do you want me?”

“I’ll send a car over for five. Go and have a nice long soak and I’ll see you later.”

* * *

An hour later, you sat in front of your dresser. Skin still dewy and glowing from the searing hot bath you just emerged from. You eyed the row of lotions and potions and trinkets and jewels, wondering what to do. What to wear.

Trailing a finger over your makeup, you picked up a red lipstick. That always made you feel fierce. You swiped it on, pouting the mirror. Then you dabbed a smidge over your cheeks, blending it out. 

You studied yourself in the mirror. 

What did you need? 

Mascara. Layering it on, you were reminded that Roger adored seeing it run down your cheeks. 

And when your lipstick smudged. 

It dawned on you.

In the back of your mind, you were making all these choices for him. Your heart sped up at the thought. 

Running a hand through your hair, you wondered how you might make that more appealing. He always enjoyed pulling at it or playing with it, depending on his mood. It was undoubtedly going to end up a wild mess by the end of the evening. A brush would suffice. Thankfully. 

Nerves kicked in as you stood up, wandering through a cloud of perfume to your drawers. He wanted you in something skimpy. How little did you have to wear not to get arrested? It had never crossed your mind before. You opened your underwear drawer and rummaged through its contents. It became overpopulated since you met Roger. He was always gifting you something to wear for him later. 

Tonight, you were spoilt for choice, pulling out three different bras in the one go. Half cup and baby blue, that, to you, barely fit at all?  Open cup with leather straps? You considered it for a moment but decided it was far too indecent. Completely sheer with a pink feathered trim? You weren’t going to lie, you liked that one. But no. Not tonight. Perhaps something a bit classier.

Did Roger even do classy?

You delved in further, pulling out something from right at the back.

Finally. Something good.

A smirk spread across your face, looking at the bra in your hands. Black, floral lace that faded away to sheer mesh across the cups. Diving into the drawer below, you quickly located the matching panties. They were lace, too, with delicate flowers flowing down around the hips from a thick, satin waistband. The fabric at the front was sheer, and plunged down in a deep ‘v’ shape, leaving an open triangle just below the waistband. The crotch was open. Suitably filthy, of course.  It was almost perfect. 

You dropped your towel and quickly pulled the underwear on, turning yourself in front of your mirror to assess your appearance from all angles. Something was missing. 

Nylons just got in the way.

As did jewellery.

Shoes.

That was precisely what you needed. 

A gold pair of sandals with ornate, floral detailing down the heel.

You looked perfect. 

The nerves were gone, and suddenly, you felt unstoppable. 

Slipping on your oversized fur coat, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, praying that it was inconspicuous enough not to draw attention. And then, you waited for your car.

* * *

The twenty-minute journey to Roger’s seemed to take forever. The longer you waited, the more you thought about the night ahead, the wetter you became. You could feel it on the harsh, leather seat below you. You could live with that. Roger’s driver had seen worse from the pair of you. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. 

Pulling up outside Roger’s house, you could see he was already waiting in the doorway for you, his sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

You stepped out of the car. Roger gave the driver a nod, then silently ushered you inside, flicking his cigarette away. 

When the door slammed shut, Roger was all over you, his tongue slipping past your lips with a ragged sigh, not once looking at you. His hands skirted up your sides to grasp at your breasts, as he backed you up against the wall.

“What did you want to show me?” you whispered. 

You hadn’t taken in anything about the scene, except for Roger and his welcome, so it took you by surprise when he broke away, slipping a thick, leather collar off the table next to you. He presented it to you. 

“This.” The hallway was dark, but you could see the mischievous glint in Roger’s eyes, darting them between you and the collar, when he spoke. “Do you want to be my little pet tonight, my love?”

You looked at the collar, and then back at Roger. You could hear the blood rushing through your veins as he awaited your answer. It went straight to your core. “Yes,” you choked. 

Roger didn’t wait any longer. He passed the strap around your neck and fastened it, tight enough that it was always apparent to you that it was there. He slipped a finger underneath it, tugging at the sturdy leather, making sure it was secure. Then his lips quickly returned to yours. 

You pulled away from him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Tell me, what does being your pet involve,” you smirked. 

“Well I’m glad you asked,” he said, turning his attention back to the table next to you.

There was a chain, glimmering in the darkness. Roger tugged it off the edge. It clinked in his hand as he attached it to the loop on your collar. A length of the cold metal came to rest on your chest, jarring with the heat coursing through your body. You bit your lip, looking at Roger as if you were waiting for him to give you direction. 

“Now,” Roger whispered, trailing his lips over your jawline, gently pulling at your leash, “I’m going to take you for a little walk, and you’re going to do exactly as I say. Aren’t you, Pet?”

Your eyes widened, the words he spoke sinking in. You gulped. And nodded.

“That’s a ‘yes, Sir,’” he prompted, giving you a stern glare.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, Pet.” His expression softened as he caressed your cheek. You seemed to move into his touch. “And you’re only going to speak when you’re spoken to?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“One final thing,” Roger began, his hands moving lower over your arms. 

“Yes, Sir?” 

“I’m going to need you to get on all fours for me, Pet.”

Roger grew taller and more commanding as you sank down the wall to the floor, croaking out another feeble, “yes, Sir.” 

He smiled down at you, affectionately ruffling your hair. “Good girl.”

It was such a simple thing he did to praise you, but it was so much more pronounced from your place at his feet. You eagerly sat up straight, as Roger continued to stroke your hair. You almost whined, when he took his hand away.

He gave your leash a tug and, without warning, strode off down the hall. “Come on, Pet,” he cooed, sensing that you were lagging behind him as he made his way through to the living room. 

Your knees ached from the freezing wooden floor, trying to keep up with him. The more you moved, thighs quickly shuffling past each other, the more you realised how aroused you were. You tried to fix your mind on making it across the floor as Roger dragged you along.

At last, the carpet in the lounge gave you some respite. You didn’t have to work as hard.

Roger sat down on the couch, allowing you to catch up. 

You settled at his feet again, waiting for your next instructions. 

He drummed his fingers against the edge of the sofa, wondering what to do with you, taking you in. 

You could feel his eyes wandering over every exposed patch of flesh, it made you squirm and pull your coat over yourself.

Finally, he spoke. “Turn around and face the floor for me, Pet.”

You turned and sat on your haunches, hesitating. Taking just a second to steady your breathing before presenting yourself. Crossing your arms against the floor, you pressed your face against them, closing your eyes. You felt a strange mix of arousal and embarrassment pooling in your stomach as Roger groaned in satisfaction.

He reached out a cold hand, squeezing the back of your thigh, causing you to flinch. “That’s it, Pet. Arse up a little bit more, let me see you.” 

You shimmied your bottom higher, shaking it slowly from side to side for him, feeling the chill in the room piercing your skin.

“I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re already a mess,” he remarked, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb. He watched as clear, sticky threads formed between you and his fingers as he moved away from you, settling back on the couch to enjoy the view. “You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You want to please me, don’t you, Pet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Turn around and show me.”

You did as he said, with a little guidance from him tugging at your chain. Now facing Roger, you reached down between your legs, tracing the edges of your soft, swollen folds. 

Roger narrowed his eyes. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” he stated, beckoning you closer.

Your mouth twitched as you shuffled forward. You decided it was best not to question.

Beside you, Roger stretched out his leg, darting his eyes between you and it. “Show me how much you want to please me, Pet.”

You tentatively climbed over Roger’s shin, pressing yourself down against the rough fabric. The feeling of drawing yourself to and fro made you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut. Not that you wanted to ignore the scenario completely. Having Roger watch you, grinding away on his leg like an animal wasn’t something you had on your agenda. But you were swiftly brought round to the idea. 

Roger licked his lips, watching. He particularly enjoyed the way you clawed at his thigh to steady yourself as your movements gathered pace, creating a dark, damp patch on the leg of his jeans. One of his hands clenched so tightly around your leash that his knuckles paled. The other fumbled with his zipper, taking out his cock. It distracted you.

Your slowed as Roger’s hand moved over his stiffening cock. 

He laughed. “Like what you see, Pet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Keep going, and I might fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He taunted.

“Oh god yes, Sir,” you gasped, speeding up again, keeping your eyes fixed on the prize. 

“Lose your coat and your bra for me, darling. They’re getting in the way,” Roger purred. 

You hastily threw off your coat and took your bra off. When you reached the waistband of your panties, Roger was quick to stop you.

“Keep those on.”

“Yes, Sir.” Your breathing was starting to hitch. 

Roger realised this before you did.

“Are you close, Pet?”

Even just hearing those words made you hump his leg harder, more purposefully. “Yes.”

“You look desperate, Pet. Did you ever think you’d end up doing this? Humping my leg like a bitch in heat?” Roger murmured, shuffling forward to stroke your hair with his free hand. “Who’s my dirty little bitch?”

“Me, Sir!” You yelped. Your movements were so quick by now that your chest bounced in time with your strokes, driving Roger wild. 

“Tell me what you are, Pet,” he growled, tightening his grip on your hair, making you curse.

“I’m your dirty little bitch, Sir!” you gasped, slowing down for fear of coming too soon. 

Usually, Roger would tease you until the very last second, but the sight of you was too much for Roger to pass up. He leaned over, fondling your breasts and nibbling at your neck. His breathing was laboured just like yours, falling on your skin in short gasps as the motion of his other hand around his cock quickened. “Come for me, Pet. Let me see you come.”

When it got too much for you and you finally let go, your legs ached. You leaned into Roger, digging your teeth into his thigh, whimpering like a wild animal. Only for him to pull you up by your hair to get a good look at you as your orgasm subsided. 

You fought against it, burying your face against his leg. Breathless and soaked in sweat, you barely had the energy to sit up straight. The feeling of Roger’s hand, gently stroking your neck soothed you back to life. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. “Are you ok?” The concern cut through his voice.

“That was amazing,” you giggled, stroking his arm.

He snapped back into character upon hearing that. His voice was low, more of a growl now. “Good. Because we’re just getting started, Pet.”

You leaned back, propping your head against his inner thigh, beaming up at him. “Thank you, Sir.”


End file.
